The Boring Bits
by audi katia
Summary: A sequence of scenes, introspection, and moments between Booth and Bones. .:.does not follow season five finale.:.


_**Notes**: This is not compliant with the Season Five Finale. I shall rephrase just as a precaution: this does not reflect the events in the Season Five Finale. Okay? Great. Now that we have that settled..._

_**Dedication**: To my friend Rita, for whom I wrote this as a birthday gift._

_**Disclaimer**: I don't own Bones or anything else you may recognize._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

The editor looked over her latest manuscript, slashing out paragraphs with a red pen. She told Brennan to get rid of the boring parts, the parts about paperwork and checking facts. It could be mentioned, but it was too boring to go into detail.

Brennan didn't understand. Yes, it was boring, but that was real life. Wasn't that what people were looking for?

The editor looked at her with exasperation. Apparently, people wanted to _escape_ real life.

In the end, Booth had to cut out the boring bits because she just could not understand.

* * *

Love me. Marry me. Kiss me.

He narrowed down all his wants and desires from the most uncontainable thoughts to the most basic and banal of questions.

Should we check out the crime scene? (Can I protect you?)

How are you feeling today? (How do you feel about me?)

Anything interesting happening? (Can I break up the monotony of your life?)

Love me? Marry me? Kiss me?

* * *

He smiled and it just might have been the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. He was starting to get older and the creases around his eyes were more prominent than they had been when she first met him. But it was familiar and there was always something comforting in the familiar parts of life.

Then she reminded herself that his face was symmetrical and that human beings inherently find themselves attracted to symmetrical parts as part of their biological and evolutionary make-up. His face just happened to be very, very symmetrical and she was a human being who noticed.

He loved her. That was beyond question. His grandfather loved her. That was comforting.

Parker loved her. That made it final.

* * *

She opened the door to see a package from her father. She glanced at the card: Happy Valentine's Day, Tempy!

She took the box of Hershey kisses into her hand, the shining red of the box vibrant against her pale skin.

And no matter how many times she told herself the chocolate was exactly the same, regardless of its wrapper, she saved the Hershey kisses sheathed with red foil for last because they tasted the best. It was something she had done her whole life, something Russ used to tease her about when she was much younger.

It was a childhood memory. She liked it. She didn't have many to like.

* * *

She walked down the stairs one, two, three until he turned around to see her descent.

She wore a lab coat with a clipboard in her hands and formaldehyde as her perfume. He stood at the bottom of the flight, his gun just barely peeking out from under his coat.

It was hardly the fairytale his mother read to him as a child. No glass slipper. No crown on his head or tulle around her ankles.

But that didn't make it any less special.

* * *

She looked over the most recent closed case. Her mind worked rapidly, filing away details and scanning the hard black ink as it provided details. She tried not to smile as some facts reminded her of how Booth reacted when he found the first clue or when he took her with Parker to the zoo afterwards.

It did not help, it did not get the work done, it did not matter.

But she smiled anyway.

* * *

He finally forced her out of the Jeffersonian, telling her she needed sleep and nourishment and the comforts of home. She protested, but did not resist the warmth of his hand on the small of her back as he guided her out the door, her words lost into the wind outside.

They sat at the diner for nearly half their usual time because he insisted she needed sleep. Her coffee was still hot in her cup when they chimed the bell above the door, signaling their exit. He offered to walk her to her apartment, but she refused. She was fine. She always was.

Good night, Booth. Good night, Bones.

When she finally went to sleep, she could still taste coffee underneath the mint of her toothpaste.

For the first time since she left Booth, she had that aching feeling in her chest that she sometimes got in the middle of the night or when she woke up in the morning, curled up on one side of the bed. For the first time that night, she wondered if maybe she made the wrong choice down the line and that maybe there was a way the night should have ended instead. A better way.

She fell asleep with that thought and the image of Booth in the forefront of her mind.

* * *

She could put her dishes in that cabinet. She could put the picture of her mother on that end table. She could keep her clothes on the left side of the closet and sleep on the right side of the bed.

He would sell his couch because he liked hers better and there wasn't enough room in the apartment for two. There was a patch of empty wall that would be perfect for that bookcase of hers with the glass doors.

He marked up his apartment with invisible outlines of what belonged where and how his life would shift if he asked her to move in. But the outlines remained invisible as he lost his confidence every time he tried to ask her.

* * *

He danced with Angela, spinning her around on the semi-crowded dance floor. Patrons of the Jeffersonian danced in circles around them, occasionally cutting off Brennan's vision. But she kept her eyes on them, smiling as they smiled, watching the brotherly way he twirled her in his arms.

The song ended and he kissed Angela's hand debonairly.

Brennan's own hand fell to her knee, the weight of her palm warm against her skin. Her fingers absentmindedly fidgeted with the edge of her skirt, rolling the ends back and forth between her fingers, feeling the faint scratchiness of the tulle. She wondered what it would be like if it were his hand there instead.

* * *

So often out of touch with her emotions, she tried to tag down the basic feelings to keep herself attached to the non-scientific part of her life that grew increasingly stronger every day.

Sadness was embodied by the memory of Zach.

Anger was sparingly felt for the criminals.

Fear was found in those small moments when she thought would never find the answers.

And then, there were the moments with Booth. Laughter. His arms around her. Friendship. Jokes. Protection. Caring. A hug. Eventually, a kiss. Promises. Tears. Dinners together. Time spent with Parker. Smiles across the room. Understanding.

His lips parted hers, stole her breath away. She was dimly aware of the wall behind her back, supporting her as her knees began to shake. He pulled away just look enough to kiss her all over her face, his lips grazing over his skin as he whispered over and over again, "God, Bones, I've wanted this for so long."

She knew this feeling. It was happy.

* * *

_I will never get over my love for semi-linear writing... Please review._


End file.
